


Interlude: The Art of Friendship

by TheQueen



Series: Pack Relations (And Other Miscommunications) [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Beta Hunk (Voltron), Galaxy Garrison, Gen, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Miscommunication, Omega Lance (Voltron), Pre-Kerberos Mission, intimate friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 19:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: Lance and Hunk were not always friends.A gen minibang fic!





	Interlude: The Art of Friendship

Lance meets Hunk six days after entering his own new, personal hell.

The Garrison was, is, and will always be one of the most ridiculous choices Lance ever made. He understands later why the stars called to him—space wars and magical talking lions seem to put a lot of things into perspective—but for now, though, it is only insanity that brings him to the Garrison’s doors. Insanity and a desperate, unexplainable urge to fly.

Omegas are the pack leaders. They are meant to cater to hearth and home. After all, as popular science will remind you again and again, Omegas are far too delicate for the manual labor expected of an Alpha.The idea of them stepping beyond the hearth is still a relatively new concept for many. The idea of omegas joining the armed forces… well now that is just ridiculous isn’t it?

And it doesn’t matter that slowly omegas have been joining the armed forces since WWII. It doesn’t matter that real science has proven time and time again that there is no proof that Omegas are unfit for combat, no proof that Omegas are incapable of working under volatile pressures. Omegas are expected to be pristine and proper and beautiful.  They are not meant to get their hands dirty. They are capable of being politicians but not generals. They could order the attack but never fire the gun.

As a child, all of this hadn’t mattered much to Lance. He had, after all, been a child, And in many ways he had lived a sheltered life.  Young, lively Lance had never been told that what lay between his legs was going to determine what he could or could not do.  For a young Lance, the stars had been a simple love. 

And his family--his mother, his father, his older brother and younger sister, his tías and his tíos--had blessed him with the chance to try. Oh yes, in their own ways they had tried to warn him.  _ The world is not a kind place, _  they would tell him. _  The world is not kind to those who step outside the lines. _

(Dynamics and the associations that came with them confined everyone in some way or another, whether you were an Omega or an Alpha or a Beta.)

Then he turned thirteen and learned. Omegas who choose not to raise families, who choose not to stay at home to raise a pack were not considered desirable, were considered selfish. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread: Lance is broken, Lance is barren. Lance is an Omega in need of a good Alpha and a moral Beta to remind him of his duties.

Lance learned not to listen.

The Garrison would reject him three times before he got in. The first time because of his flight scores being too low. Justifiable. The second time because he did not meet the weight limit--for some reason it had not been a problem when his flight scores had been too low. The third because he punched the instructor in the face for trying to grab his waist; honestly, he’d never regret that decision.

It wasn’t until the fourth time he’d catch a break. A reporter took interest, a few Civil Rights groups spoke up, hundreds of rumors spread on the internet. This time when Lance passed their physicals and their simulations and their written exams and their oral exams and whatever red tape they tried to put in his way, the Garrison had too many eyes watching to turn him away.

.

That’s not to say, of course, that suddenly everyone was okay with him. In all honestly, getting in was the easy part.

Within the first week, Lance could  tell everyone was just waiting for him to quit.

His sister and brother had warned him,  _ They smell weakness. _

Monday he walks into his first class and takes a seat as close to the front as possible. Certainly no one will try anything this close to a professor. He’s never been around this many alphas before.

When the teacher takes roll call, she skips over his name.

It doesn’t take long for Lance to learn who has his back and who doesn’t. Unsurprisingly, the number of allies are miniscule.  

A pattern sets in quickly. Teachers ignore him in class - calling on everyone but him. Students are afraid to pair up with him. They either treat him like glass or treat him like dirt. The rumors of selfishness and broken wombs and broken brains following him from class to class, from dawn to dusk..

His only solace is the moments he has alone behind locked doors. Moments to drop his shields, to destress and feel. To sleep if the day had been particularly awful. He refuses to call his parents. Not yet. Not until he can prove to himself and the world that he can cut it.

And then the notice comes to disturb what little peace he can claw his way to.

He’s getting a roommate.

.

When he tells his parents, his mother threatens to call everyone from the school board to the president. “What about your heats,” she screams and Lance is quick to pull the phone away from his ear. “Are they going to lock you in the same room as this boy and expect you to be fine?”

“Mom…” Lance bites his lip as he stares down at the letter and paces the room. He hasn’t been able to sit since he read it.

“It’s ludicrous,” his mother continues, “Do they have no concern for the safety of their students? Bad enough that the media has been following this. If one more Mary-Ann tells me I’m raising my son wrong I’m not going to be able to be held accountable for my actions!”

He hears his mother take a deep breath and braces himself before his father cuts in. “What do you want us to do son?”

Lance sighs. He’s going to regret this.

“Nothing.”

The phone is silent.

“It’s all mind games,” Lance argues. “I can’t show they’re getting to me.”

His parents understand.

“What about your safety, Lance?” his father asks.

Lance shrugs, “I’ll make it work.”

.

It is understandably not the best mindset to meet his future roommate with. Looking back, Lance can definitely say Hunk didn’t deserve the stink eye he’d received the first time he’d tried to shake hands with Lance. But that hadn’t mattered to Lance at the time. All Lance had been able to think was,  _ At least he’s a beta. _

“Hunk Garrette,” Hunk says after slowly retracting his hand.

“Lance,” Lance says, crossing his arms. Hunk’s suitcase is half packed on their bed and Lance spots a music player. God, he hopes his roommate isn’t too noisy. But then again if he’s a partier maybe he’ll stay out of the room as often as possible.

It takes Hunk a moment to place him. Not that Lance blames him. Hard to match the perky and pretty Omega who’d done all those talk shows--the strangest week of Lance’s life--with the sullen and overworked Omega before him. It’s what Hunk says next that really surprises him. “I think what you’re doing is pretty brave.”

He doesn’t expect it. For a long moment, he doesn’t understand it. But when it does, it hits him hard. He feels his eyes burn as he fight backs the tears and looks up to see Hunk looking equally distressed. Lance swallows hard and licks his lips, “I-I... Thank you.”

.

Despite their somewhat emotional greeting (that leaves Lance red in the face and unable to speak to Hunk for the rest of the day) they are nowhere near friends.

Luckily, Hunk is on the engineering track. They very rarely have to see each other and when they do Lance is either too tired, too nervous, or too angry at the world to be any good company. In fact, most days Lance spends in silence broken only when teachers bother to admit he’s raised his hand or to tell the cafeteria worker what he’d like to eat.  

Sometimes Lance wonders where this obsession with stars came from. He needs to fly. He needs to fly. Some days it’s the only thing that gets him up in the morning, the only thing that drives him to attend class or do his homework when he knows no one wants him there. Two and a half weeks and already he’s not sure how much more he can take.

At least, Hunk is not the problem he thought he would be. No they will probably never be friends. Not that Lance has ever had many of those. But he is quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t play his music too loud and he goes to bed at a decent time. He never drinks and he never brings anyone back to the dorm.

It’s the best Lance could have asked for short of asking for no roommate at all.

.

Then the new rumors start.

It takes a while for them to reach Lance. It’s not like he’s number one on anyone’s list. Three weeks in and Lance is pretty sure he can still count the number of people he’s talked to on one hand. But it’s inevitable that he overhears things as he walks too and from class. Some bother to fall silent as he walks past; others stare openly.

“Hunk broke someone’s arm,” he hears a girl whisper.

“Hunk put a guy in the hospital,” someone hisses as he walks to math.

At first he doesn’t pay attention. Then he thinks it’s a mistake. It only gets worse as the day progresses.

“Hunk threw someone through a wall.”

“Hunk punched the guy hard enough he got some teeth stuck in his knuckles.”

The only constants: violence and Lance.

So it’s safe to say he’s shocked to come back to the dorm room to see Hunk calmly and happily working away at his desk.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk greets when the closing of the door notifies Hunk to Lance’s presence. He’s smiling as if he’s completely and utterly unaware of what he’s done, what he’d... he’d made Lance deal with.

The anger is familiar. “What did you do?” Lance snaps and he tries not to feel too satisfied when Hunk recoils, cheeriness giving to be replaced with confusion. His hands are shaking. His knees are shaking. He wants to sit down .He wants to scream. This isn’t fair.

None of this has ever been fair.

“Lance?” Hunk tries to pacify. He raises his hands up as he stands out of his chair as if in surrender, demeanor far too calming and open and genuine for Lance right now. He will not be pacified. He will not be soothed. “What happened, buddy?”

“I get enough fucking shit,” Lance continues, “I get enough from everyone. Everyone here who's just waiting for me to tap out or call it quits.. And I don’t need you… I don’t need you adding to it! I don’t know what you were trying to do or what you’re trying to prove, but it didn’t help! Lord knows I don’t want you here so the least you could fucking do is keep your stupid fucking face out of my business and leave me alone! Alright?”

He’s panting by the end of it, voice cracking as he slowly lowers his hands. Hunk stares at him in silence.

“I don’t need you or anyone else helping me,” Lance finishes quietly. “Okay?”

Hunk nods slowly before looking away. “Yeah. Sorry.”

.

Lance takes to avoiding his room.

.

“You’re an idiot,” he hisses. Why do bathroom lights always make dark circles look worse than they are? He splashes a few handfuls of cold water on his face before taking a deep breath. . Midterms are coming up. Iverson is his tester for the next simulation. Out of all the instructors of course it had to be Iverson. The only nice professor in this goddamn building and, at this rate, Lance is going to fail and disappoint the only teacher who doesn’t seem hell bent on kicking him out. “You’re a goddamn fool. Why would anything ever be that easy?”

He presses the palms of hands to his eyes and tries not to scream. Of course the rumors hadn’t stopped. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Didn’t matter that they barely spoke to each other or that Lance had done everything in his power to keep away.

_ The rumors about their illicit love affair is clearly overstated _ , he thinks hysterically. Anyone with half a brain and a nose would know better, but this wasn’t about common sense. It had never been about common decency or logic or fairness.

Lance takes a deep breath and splashes some more water on his face before grabbing a few paper towels. He won’t let them win.

He won’t let them win.

.

He passes. Iverson tells him to get some sleep.

.

As classes let out for the day, he takes a left away from the pack towards the less used and quieter library with the hope of getting some studying done. He can feel himself slipping behind, knows that the classes are only going to get harder from here as midterms start to finish up. He still can’t sleep. Even though he’s gone back to the room. Even though exams are finishing up. He’s worried he won’t be able to get all A’s to qualify for a seat in the fighter class and he’s worried about proving everyone right about Omega’s. One slip up. That’s all they’re looking for. The stress is making it hard to concentrate as is. The stares of his peers don’t help.

At least he hasn’t had a heat since he arrived; the smallest of mercies.

It’s as he turns the corner that he hears Hunk’s quiet placating voice urge someone to step away and calm down. He looks up and tries not to snarl. Because there is Hunk, quiet giant Hunk, pressed against the wall as another angrier Alpha presses in. His scent thick and unyielding in the narrow hallway, throwing out red flags in every direction: “stay away,” “back off.”

“You think just because you’re getting your rocks off with some Omega,” the Alpha snarls, fists clenched. “You can walk around like some hot shot? Huh? That you can go around humiliating people.”

Hunk is far too flustered to come up with anything thoughtful. “I already told you, Lance and I aren’t together. Lance isn’t with anyone. I’m just… I’m just trying to get lunch, dude,” Hunk urges.

Lance has heard enough. “Stop,” he snaps, pushing obedience into his voice until he can see the tension in the Alpha’s shoulder’s and the relief in Hunk’s. He reaches out and touches just barely, just within the rights of an Omega--against the overworked Alpha’s wrists. The effect is near instantaneous. “Calm down, now. Let go.”

Lance watches as the Alpha melts, shoulders going loose and eyes fluttering shut. There is quiet for a moment and then another, long after Lance had let go and stepped back. When the Alpha comes back to himself, Lance watches the flush take over his face. “I….”

“No more,” Lance says. If it comes out as begging, he doesn’t mean it; yes he does. “Let’s all just… relax. Okay?”

The Alpha starres at him for another moment before taking a few steps back and turning on his heel. Probably off to the cafeteria.

“You should get something to eat,” Lance shrugs, unable to look at Hunk. “I’ll see you later.” It’s the first time they’ve spoken in weeks. “You should really stop picking fights, dude.”

“I wasn’t… I just answered before- Lance…” Hunk starts before giving up. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

Lance walks away and tries to ignore the guilt that sits heavy in his stomach.

.

It takes him too long to realize that he isn’t the only one hurting.

.

Lance isn’t good at apologies, never got good at giving them and hated receiving them. But it doesn’t take a genius to know how much Hunk like’s food. Lance has spotted enough cookbooks cracked open on his roommate’s desk to know Hunk likes to stress cook and stress eat. And hey, Lance knows the value of a good stress reliever. He knits. Hunk cooks. He can respect that.

So in that same vein of thinking, Lance figures one of the best things he can do is bake Hunk an apology cake and see where they go from there.

Which is how he finds himself at 4AM when everyone is fast asleep phone calling his mother with a bag of flour on his elbows and a growing sense of failure settling around his throat.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to hit rock bottom.

He isn’t doing well enough in classes and he might end up with a B in Calc 3 and an A- in Chinese. He hasn’t slept enough in the last four weeks because he’s been doing nothing but test after project after test. Group projects are hell when no one wants you there even if they’re not openly hostile, and now this. A roommate he’s been nothing but cruel too and the inability to make a simple vanilla cake with frosting as an apology weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his mother whispers, voice still heavy with sleep. He must have woken her up.

He starts crying before he can respond.

It isn’t hard to tell her everything. His stress. His distress. He’s messed up and he feels like shit. He doesn’t know why he’s still here. He wants to go home. He doesn’t want to give up. He wants to relax but he can’t because he can’t afford to show weakness.

It’s a mess.

He’s a mess.

When he finally gets to his issue with his cake, his mother whispers her instructions quickly. The clock ticks down to 5am. People will be waking soon. He doesn’t want to be seen. Cooking is far too much of an Omega-thing to earn him any respect here.

When he is done it is nearly seven. The frosting is okay. He could have done better, but maybe Hunk will still like it. His eyes are bloodshot and itchy. His mother wishes him goodnight through a yawn and the guilt he feels for waking her is only just overshadowed by his love and he tells his mother “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” his mother whispers before hanging up.

He sets the cake down on Hunk’s desk, scrawls a little apology on a sticky note and feels quite satisfied with himself. Now he’s off to the library. Best to study now that he’s awake.

.

When he comes back to the room, the cake platter is clean and a small green sticky note with a smiley face sits in its place.

.

After that it becomes a pattern.

Hunk leaves him twelve perfect chocolate chip cookies.

Lance sneaks in a few lemon bars based on his mother’s recipe.

Hunk sends him a chocolate cake.

Lance makes carrot.

Hunk makes blondies.

Lance makes brownies.

So on and so forth.

.

He’s caught leaving a plate of leftover brownies on the counter in the kitchen by a woman two years older. There is a moment of silence before she wanders over and takes one of the brownies ]off of the plate. She’s an Alpha. Lance can tell from this close she’s an Alpha.

“Not everyone hates you,” she says around a mouth full of brownie before walking away.

He doesn’t know what to say.

.

He’s slipping a raspberry pie onto Hunk’s desk one early morning only to nearly drop it when he hears Hunk grumble, “Oh come on!”

“Um…” Lance mumbles, just managing to keep the pie tin secure before quickly placing it onto the desk. “... Morning?”

“A pie?” Hunk groans before faceplanting into his pillow. “I can’t beat a pie. Pies are hard, Lance. They’re really hard.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say and so opts to say nothing.

Hunk looks up and shoots him a fond sort of smile. “I’m going to cook you a three course dinner and you will bring another pie and we’re calling it even, okay? My belly might be full but my bank account is not.”

Lance isn’t sure why, but it’s enough to make him laugh. The surrealness of it all. Here they were, half into the semester, and his roommate had caught him sneaking in pies in the wee hours of the early morning on less than three hours of sleep like he was smuggling in cocaine. It’s… it’s… How did this become his life?

“Don’t laugh at me,” Hunk complains, but he’s smiling with that same fondness. “I’m a cook not a baker. I can’t…. Lance. Lance.”

Lance looks up and covers his mouth to stifle his laughs. “Yes, Hunk?”

Hunk is snickering now. “I’m going to cook you a pot roast.”

.

After that it’s safe to say things change.

Lance finds himself spending more and more time in his room. Hunk quietly works away at his desk or, sometimes, they share the floor, lay out their papers and their books so it’s easy to see everything. Sometimes Hunk helps him out, points out a flaw in his work or directs him to the right page. When he’s frustrated and ready to storm off or throw his book at the wall or just quit, Hunk takes his hand and anchors him until he’s calm enough to think.

It’s helpful, more than helpful.

Lance isn’t sure why Hunk bothers to hang out with him, but he appreciates it. Lance hasn’t laughed this much since the semester started. Hasn’t talked this much either. It helps that it’s easy. Once Lance is done being angry, it’s easy to see how they click. Both competitive. Both stubborn. Both with the same silly humor and like for old music and older movies.

At first they keep their friendship quiet. Lance doesn’t want to make Hunk’s life any harder than it already is. It’s easy to figure out that Hunk’s become the butt of far too many jokes just because he’s his roommate. Lance knows they’d become worse once people realize they’re friends.

Then, one day, Hunk picks him up after class and they go to dinner. Hunk complains about class and this and that and then asks how Lance’s day has been despite the stares that follow them around. It’s possibly one of the bravest things Lance has ever seen.

.

Lance sighs and tips his head back so he’s more comfortably lying in Hunk’s lap as they lounge on the common room sofa. Hunk’s laptop is playing the latest episode of some cop drama. The familiar heavy music the only thing Lance can recall as he closes his eyes. Pasta still boiling on the stove in the adjacent room.

“I think the wife did it,” Hunk whispers as if it were a conspiracy. Hand’s calmly working out the knots in Lance’s hair. It’s short, shorter than he’s ever kept it before, but it’s still relaxing to feel another person’s hands on his head, working out the stress of the day.

“Hmmm,” Lance hums, “What about the boyfriend?”

“The boyfriend’s alibi is too good,” Hunk argues. “Ten bucks it’s the wife.”

“It doesn’t have to be a competition,” Lance sighs, smiling as Hunk presses cool hands against his forehead.

“Everything's a competition,” Hunk reminds him and Lance can hear the smile in his voice.

Lance laughs, “I take your wager. My money’s on the boyfriend.”

Hunk combs his fingers through his hair and Lance feels the last of that day’s stress fade away. “Prepare to lose.”

.

The first time Lance goes out on one of the day trips it’s with Hunk’s arms firmly around his waist as they board the bus. He’s getting better at dealing with the crowds, with the stares. He’d been unprepared coming in, naive. He’d thought the greatest hurdle was getting his foot in the door.

But he’s made it past the halfway mark and he has no plans to stop. He’s not going to be run off or run out. And in some ways this seems to have leant him some form of respect. People don’t approach him, but rumors quiet and things settle. It’s not great, but it’s not awful.

Hunk is teaching him how to pick his battles. It’s slow, but steady progress.

He takes comfort in the warmth of Hunk next to him as he peers outside of the window to watch the stretch of sand roll past in easy waves. Yellow to orange to red as an expanse of blue stretches unbroken for miles and miles until he can see the silhouette of a city in the distance. It’s a military city, built for a military base. It houses the families of the Garrison and the Air Force base out west. The people here are stern. It’s in their eyes, Lance thinks as he steps off of the bus as a wind-worn woman hands them an allowance and a reminder to return in a few hours for the bus back to the building.

There is a festival, the lights hung but unlit against rolls and rolls of streamers in  good old red, white, and blue. Lance loves it! The vendors, the food, and the games call to him and he’s quick to grab Hunk’s hand and pull him wherever his mood carries him.

They ride the rollercoaster twice. They eat their weight in fair food and then laugh when they have to take a break and wait out their impending food coma.

At one point, Hunk pulls him in front of one of those hoop games and slaps down a five for seven turns. “Which one do you want?” Hunk asks.

Lance has learned not to argue with Hunk and points to a small dinosaur plushie in the far right corner. Hunk nods to the man running the booth and takes his rings.

Ten dollars down, Lance tries not to blush too hard as he grips his giant dragon plushie close. “You didn’t have to... “ Lance tries only to be silenced by a stern look.

“Let’s drop it off by the lockers,” Hunk says. “Then I want to ride the carousel.”

Lance is too embarrassed to admit he’s hasn't had this much fun in ages.

.

Of course, Lance would later think, Of course he’d manage to fuck it up in the end.

When Eric Grant approaches him one fine Tuesday afternoon, right before lunch with a couple of questions about class, Lance realizes he has no idea what to do. It’s the first time someone has been interested in him since Hunk and from the way Eric tends to blush when he laughs, the interest isn’t strictly platonic.

Eric Grant is a nice guy. Probably one of the sweetest guys on the campus who's never had a bad word to say about Lance as far as Lance knows. A fellow pilot with an interest in non-military application like NASA and X-One. Bonus - he’s nice to look at too. Shaggy brown hair. Wide shoulders. A nice, clean scent like pine trees native to the state he comes from.

So Lance stays a little later after class instead of brushing him off to answer his questions and then offers to help tutor Erik while looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Eric has a nice blush.

Which is how he finds himself at the library, Eric sitting a little too close. A shared textbook sitting untouched in front of them on the library table.

“I didn’t know you were interested in Niven,” Lance continues. “I admit I haven’t read many of his works…”

“I’ll have to lend you some sometime,” Eric grins and offers his hand. Honestly, Eric has been a gentleman so far, hasn’t pushed, hasn’t made any inappropriate comments. So Lance lets him take his hand as Eric launches into a conversation about their next flight simulator.

When Eric looks at him, Lance smiles and bats his eyelashes and likes the color of Eric’s blush.

Hunk clears his throat loudly and the two look to see him standing by the table, eye’s narrowed even as he forces himself to smile. “Eric! I didn’t know you were joining us today.”

“Yeah!” Eric grins, either unaware or choosing to ignore the tension in the room. “Lance invited me and really I could use the help in chem. Thanks for having me.”

It takes a moment for Hunk to settle and Lance maintains his smile. “Yeah, of course.”

.

Hunk brings it up the minute they’re alone in their room. “Lance do you want to talk about that?”

Lance shrugs and throws his backpack against his bed before toeing off his shoes, “Talk about what, Hunk?”

“Since when do we invite other people to our study sessions?” Hunk asks.

Lance shrugs again and takes a seat on his bed, dragon plushie nestled against his back. “I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. You can invite people too.”

“It’s just…” Hunk frowns and takes a seat on his bed across the room. “It’s just this is our thing.”

Lance echoes his frown, “I’m allowed to have other friends, Hunk.”

“Oh like Eric wants to be just friends,” Hunk snaps, rolling his eyes.

“And why do you care?” Lance challenges. He doesn’t like this. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Hunk was supposed to be happy for him! He’s supposed to… No one pays attention to Lance like that. Hunk isn’t supposed to get angry. And he is angry. “It’s not like we’re together.”

“Of course not,” Hunk yells back. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see my friend throwing themselves at whatever Alpha smiles their right way. You don’t even know Eric.”

“Well neither do you,” Lance argues. “And who I sleep with is none of your concern. I’m not some helpless omega…”

“I’m not saying that,” Hunk cuts him off. “You’re always so quick to assume the worst of me, Lance. Not everything is about you being an Omega!”

“You don’t own me,” Lance screams, grabbing his bag and shoving his shoes back onto his feet.

“Of course I don- Where are you going?” Hunk asks as Lance reaches the door. He needs to leave before he says something stupid.

“Maybe Eric’s.” And Lance knows it’s a dick move, but he doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this anger. Hunk has never been angry with him before even when he’s more than deserved it.  

He thought Hunk was different. He thought Hunk didn’t care that he was an Omega.

“Lance-,” Hunk starts.

“I’ll see you later,” Lance says, before quickly slamming the door closed.

He spends the night on the common room couch, barely sleeping.

.

Lance wakes feeling like shit.

It’s safe to say things don’t get any better from there.

But in a weird sort of way, at least he can say that it doesn’t get worse. He gets breakfast alone for the first time in weeks and nurses a warm cup of coffee in near silence, the mumbling and murmuring of the early morning cafeteria providing a somewhat pleasant background noise as he forces himself to properly wake up. When he steps into class, he let’s Eric step a little closer than he normally would and does his best to ignore the stares he can feel drilling into his back. And when they take a seat together near the front of the class, Eric’s leg brushes against Lance’s and Lance can admit he’s human enough to take pleasure in the knowledge he is desirable.

At home he’d always been too much to be found attractive, but Eric seems almost pleased to have gained his attention. It's a new feeling for Lance. It’s nice.

So he ignores the stares and let's Eric's leg touch his as he fights through a headache to focus on today's lecture.

.

It's as the last class comes to a close that he finally spies Hunk in the hallway. For a moment their eyes’ lock before Hunk is looking away and Lance can feel his okay mood sour.

"I had fun today," Eric starts when he's caught up to Lance, the student body splitting around them in their rush to get to dinner or their rooms.

"Me too," Lance says. He is not lying. He did have fun. Of course, Eric is no Hunk and Lance has no desire for him to be. Eric is fun and easy and smells nice while Hunk is complicated and caring and so very kind. If given the chance, Lance could see him developing a crush on Eric.

But he does not see himself spilling his darkest secrets to Eric, not how he can speak to Hunk. And that's honestly for the best. He's not looking for a relationship. He had thought doing this would spell that clearly to Hunk.

He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone, let alone Hunk.

"So... there's a party my friend is throwing this weekend," Eric says, rocking slightly on his heels.

"Oh?" Lance says, "Is this you inviting me?"

Eric grins and shrugs, a little sheepish. "I know you're not a huge partier, but...um... I'd love it if you came."

Lance echoes his smile, "I'd love to!"

.

That's how Lance finds himself in front of his closet that Saturday, a pile of clothes on the bed. And the knowledge that he was going to be running very, very late if he kept this up. "Come on, Lance," he hisses just as Hunk steps in through the door.

"Lance," Hunk says cautiously and Lance bites his lip. He doesn't know what to say.

"Hunk," Lance greets before turning back to his closet. Maybe the red shirt....

"Are you going somewhere?" Hunk asks.

Lance smiles and for a second he forgets that they are fighting. He forgets that he's supposed to be hurt because it's Hunk and he's nervous and excited. He's been invited to a party! Him!

"Eric invited me to a party," Lance says, grabbing a pair of dark wash jeans from the closet and a light blue shirt. Simple. Simple would probably be good. He is overthinking this. He's nervous and he's overthinking this. Eric might... actually like him!

"What do you think?" Lance asks holding the shirt against his chest. "Too little?"

Hunk is staring at the wall, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed thin. Lance waits and then sighs. "You could at least pretend to be happy for me," Lance says. "It's not like we were dating."

"I never wanted to date you," Hunk says easily before finally looking at Lance. "I think you're making a mistake."

"You're not my mother," Lance says fighting to keep his words even. He doesn't want to get into a fight. He's happy. He's been invited to a party. Him! This is his chance right? Sue him for wanting a… a normal school experience. "I'm allowed to have a little fun."

Hunk groans, "This isn't some normal party, Lance. Everyone knows that Jensen is involved in the wrong crowd and Eric is no better off. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm allowed to have some fun and get a little drunk just like everybody else," Lance snaps, before pulling off his shirt and ripping the new one off it's hanger. "And if I needed a babysitter I would have accepted the school's offer for an escort."

"I'm your friend," Hunk tries carefully, looking away as Lance slips into his jeans. "I just want to take care of you."

"I'm going to be late," Lance growls, shoving his phone into his pocket. "I'll see you later, Hunk."

.

One hour later finds Lance with a bottle in hand and his lap firmly in someone else's, staring up at Hunk with wide eyes, guilt churning heavily in his stomach.

He'd arrived just in time to receive a text from Eric apologizing for not being able to make it. Apparently, he'd been one of the victims of this week's mystery lunch mishap. But Lance can't go back. Not now that people have seen him and not now after his fight with Hunk. So he sucks it up, grabs a beer and tries to mingle.

It goes well-ish. Some people ignore him. Some people are nice. The Alpha girl who’d taken one of his brownies, Shivanni, loops her arms around his and tells him Eric’s a dick for standing him up. Lance argues he was sick and she laughs.

“Oh he is,” she says, “Caught him throwing up four times in the toilet before I left. Everyone knows he’s got a crush a mile wide on you.”

Lance blushes, “Really?”

She tags a swing of beer and asks him if he wants anything. He says no. Asks for water instead.

“I thought you were with the engineer,” she says, “Everyone thinks that.”

Lance frowns. He doesn’t want to talk about Hunk. “We were never together,” Lance says into his cup.

She shrugs, “Hey. Is it true he broke someone’s arm for you?”

Lance shakes his head. And hadn’t that made him feel like shit. After blowing up at Hunk for something that never happened. “No. He told someone to fuck off and to stop calling me a whore and then the rumor mill took over from there.” He sighs and finishes off his glass and reaches for the beer.

She nods as if it were obvious. “Makes sense. This school is awful about gossip.” Shivanni’s in the middle of telling him of the rumors she heard about three Alphas attempting to organize an orgy before the school caught on when they get to the couch.

He could ask for room. People would understand. But when he smells Hunk in the air--familiar and easy to pick up after three months of smelling it day after day--he motions to her lap and she grins and tells everyone to fuck off when they ooh and ahh at the sight of an Omega settling against a big strong Alpha.

Hunk is less than thrilled compared to everyone else when he see Lance.

Lance is aware in the place at the back of his mind where he stores his conscience and his understanding of right and wrong, good and bad, and all those important things that tell people to stop and think, that he’s being an asshole of epic and indescribable proportions right now.

Overall, it’s taken awhile for Lance to admit he’s not a good person.  If his short-lived friendship with Hunk has proven anything it’s this. He tries and he tries and he tries, but he knows deep down in that same place that he’s nothing more than petty. Petty and scared. So no, he doesn’t bother to get up and speak about it like adults. No he doesn’t think about apologizing. Instead, he stays where he is and lets the conversation around him capture his attention. When he looks up at Hunk and smirks, he is completely aware of the dick-ish-ness he is oozing.

So when Hunk’s expression changes from one of worry and concern— _ don’t deserve, doesn’t deserve it, mistake, mistake, being here is a mistake _ —to one of utter contempt, Lance cannot say he is surprised. And when Hunk turns on his heel and walks out without a word, he doesn’t have the right to be disappointed. Their entire exchange remains lost on the majority of the partygoers. They grab at Hunk’s shoulders or holler for him to stay. And when Hunk refuses to stay, instead disappearing into the crowd like a man on a mission.

Okay yeah, Lance deserves that too.

.

Two hours finds him reaching tipsy as he grabs at another beer when Shivanni finally asks him, “So you two are fighting, huh?”

Lance shrugs. He’s moved off her lap and onto the couch, beer bottle cradled in his lap. He’s a lightweight, really. “We’re fighting.”

“What about?” She asks.

“You can be pretty nosy,” he accuses without any real heat.

She shrugs. She doesn’t seem to care what he thinks. And it’s refreshing. He wishes he could do that; not care. “I think you two would be good together.”

“I’m not looking for some kind of long term relationship,” Lance explains. “Eric is fun. Hunk is commitment.”

She nods, sagely. “I know. I get it. No one is looking for something like that. But I’m not blind. I live in the room next door to yours and I’ve seen plenty to know you too are good friends.”

Lance finishes his beer and considers getting another one and decides not to. “I know I should apologize.”

“Is it your fault?” she asks.

“What?”

“Is it your fault?”

“I...It probably is,” Lance says. “It usually is. I’ve been mostly an asshole.”

“You’re not being an asshole right now,” Shivanni offers. “And just because you can be doesn’t mean it’s always your fault. What happened?”

“I invited Eric to our study session and spent most of it flirting,” Lance admits. “Hunk didn’t...He said it was our thing.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute and he looks at her. She looks thoughtful. “Maybe…” she says finally. “Maybe he is jealous.”

He frowns, “But he says he doesn’t want to date me.”

Shivanni looks at him. “Maybe that’s not why he’s jealous.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugs and finishes off her drink before standing up. She’s sober. Stone cold sober. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”

.

It’s with liquid courage that he confronts Hunk that early morning.

Lucky for both of them, Hunk isn’t asleep. Luckier for both of them, Hunk puts him to bed before he can get six words out. When he wakes properly the next day with a mouth tasting like ash and acid and his head pounding, it’s to see Hunk standing at his bedside with a couple of pills and a glass of water.

“You wouldn’t take them last night,” Hunk says, dropping the pills into Lance’s hand. “So I figure you need them now.”

Lance takes them without a sound. He feels awful. He feels deeply, deeply awful. He crawls out of bed and makes it to the bathroom to wash off the sweat and glitter and spends far too long standing with his head under warm water until he can stomach facing the world. When he gets back to the dorm, mostly dry with his clothes sticking him in certain wet patches, he watches Hunk set a plate of leftovers--spaghetti and meatballs--on his desk.

“Thanks,” he says because he’s not in the mood to punish himself and sits on his bed with his dragon plushy and starts eating. The clock reads 1:06PM

“Your friend came by,” Hunk says.

Lance slurps up a noodle and nods to indicate he’s listening.

“Shivanni had quite a lot to say,” Hunk continues. “You are a very chatty drunk.”

Lance takes a bite of meatball. He wonders if this is the moment Hunk admits he’s moving out. There have been a few drop outs. The school has room for singles again. No reason for Hunk to stay here now that he has a choice.

Lance thinks he’s certainly done enough to run him out.

Hunk takes a deep, world-weary sigh and crosses his arms. “I’m sorry, Lance.”

This is not what Lance expected. “Why are you apologizing?”

Hunk looks away and then looks back. Bites his lip. Lance waits. “I… I don’t have anyone really,” Hunk finally says. “I don’t make friends easily and I know I’m hard to get along with sometimes. I can be nosy and overly competitive and I know… I know that I can be really stubborn.”

“Hunk…”

“So I-I got jealous when I saw you and Eric, not because I want to date you or because I think you’re mine or anything like that,” Hunk shrugs again. “I just got scared you’d figure out you’re better off and leave.”

Lance laughs then. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out anyway. A sharp starling noise that has Hunk looking away with an angry flush. “I thought you were going to leave me!” Lance cries as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I thought you’d figured out how awful I am and was going to move out.”

It’s Hunk’s turn to be confused. “Why in the world would I do that?”

Lance smiles. “I haven’t always been the nicest person, Hunk.”

“I’ve seen the way people talked about you,” Hunk says. “I can’t blame you for being weary.”

Lance shrugs and then takes another bite of his pasta, giving himself time to think. When he’s ready, he says, “We’re really bad at talking to each other.”

Hunk nods, “That seems like a bit of an understatement.”

“I think we owe Shivanni a pie,” Lance offers and then looks up to meet Hunk’s eyes. “I like being seen as desirable. I like flirting. I want to be… normal.”

“I know,” Hunk says after a moment. “You deserve to feel normal, Lance. I’m… sorry I made you feel like you weren’t allowed to.”

“You’re still my best friend,” Lance says. “I’ve never had a best friend before.”

Hunk comes and sits next to him on the bed. Lance leans in for a cuddle and carefully balances the last of his pasta in his lap. “I’ve never had a best friend before, too, “ Hunk finally says.

“We can get better at this,” he adds when Lance doesn’t say anything. “We’ll learn.”

“...We should get friendship bracelets,” Lance says after a moment with the utmost seriousness.

Hunk chuckles, a deep vibrating noise. “I think I’d like that.”

.

Two years later, when they blast off into space, they still have their friendship bracelets tied around their ankles.

**Author's Note:**

> Wooo!!! Finally got to post this! I hope you all enjoyed it. I've been meaning to continue my abo series for a while now so rest assured there is more to come! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> .
> 
> Beta: [Onoheiwa](https://onoheiwa.tumblr.com/)  
> Artist: [Niffty24](https://niffty24.tumblr.com/) (NSFW)  
> Event: [Voltron Gen Minibang](http://voltrongenminibang.tumblr.com/)
> 
> .
> 
> My new writing blog: [TheQueen117](http://thequeen117.tumblr.com/)  
> Please consider supporting me by checking out my writing blog!


End file.
